Good grief. I know Delilah is a little freaky, but I didn’t think she was into reenacting bad porn.
As if hearing her cry out in the throes of whatever-the-hell it is she’s doing isn’t enough, I’m now being subjected to the low, guttural grunts of her male partner. I bury my face in my hands, gripping my hair at the roots and tapping my foot against the crappy tile rapidly, trying to think of more pleasant things than what’s really going on in there.
“Oh…oh…OOOOOOOH!”
Aaaaaaaand, she’s done. Lifting my face from my knees, I smooth down the front of my hair because I know it’s probably standing up from the rough tugging. This won’t be the last time something like this will happen, and I know I should look into moving rooms. I wait a few minutes, really enjoying the silence coming from our room as I assume they’re getting dressed. I’m confident in this assumption because Delilah seems about as cuddly as a porcupine.
Finally, Delilah’s laugh is heard from behind the door, and it sounds like she’s getting ready to kick her latest tryst out. “That was great. I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”
Not wanting her to think that I’ve been out here eavesdropping like some kind of pervert, I stand up and try to make it look like I’ve just got impeccable timing. I grab the shoulder strap to my book bag, lifting it at the exact moment that the door swings open. What I see on the other side stuns me. Or should I say whom…?
Chapter 2
“B—Ben?” I blink because I must be seeing things, but when I open my eyes again…and then again, I’m staring directly into the faces of my bitch of a roommate and my lying, sack of shit boyfriend. “What the hell?”
“Hey, Jules,” he says, smiling suddenly. His eyes still show just how shocked he is to find me here. Outside my room. “I came by to see you. Delilah and I got to talking.”
“I was in class. You knew that.” I don’t think I’ve blinked again, and my eyes are drying out.
Ben scratches the back of his neck, dropping his gaze from me. “Oh, yeah. Well, I thought you’d be do—”
“What the hell?” I shout, cutting him off before he can feed me some lame-ass excuse.
“Uh…uh,” he stammers, looking back at Delilah and then me again.
Annoyance and notes of anger course through my veins. I’m actually surprised I’m not angrier about uncovering his unfaithfulness, actually. Weird. I let my bag fall from my shoulder, catching the strap in my hand and swinging it at him. It connects with his shoulder even though he tries to shield himself from it. “You lying, cheating sack of shit!” I look at Delilah and point, my eyes narrowing and my nose scrunching up as my lips curl up into a snarl. “And you. You fucking bitch.”
“Juliette,” she says, holding her hands up because I’m sure she thinks I’m going to assault her with my heavy book bag next. The thought never crosses my mind, though. Strangling her? Well, that’s another story… “It’s not what you think.”
I laugh dryly, just once. “Oh, it’s not? Well, I feel pretty damn foolish, then,” I say, stepping into the room and flinging my bag on my bed. Ben seems almost relieved, like Delilah’s really been able to convince me that damn quickly. I’m sure to nip that shit in the bud immediately.
Crossing my arms, I turn to them and sneer. “So,” I say, “you like it dirty…big boy?” I can see Ben swallow thickly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. And to think I was going to offer to…” I can’t even finish the sentence without my stomach rolling.
“Juliette…” His tone is soft, like he’s trying to appeal to some part of me that’s sympathetic. Won’t he be surprised to find that no such part exists.
Shaking my head, I walk to my dresser to grab a few things. “Save it. Honestly, I don’t even care that the two of you are…whatever you are. You made this really easy on me. You two are perfect for each other. I’m out of here. Delilah, the room’s yours. Have a nice fucking life.” The double entendre isn’t intended, but it’s more than fitting. “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff as soon as I’ve made other arrangements. Touch any of it, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. You’ve already taken something of mine; I’d say I’ve been more than generous.”
I throw my bag back over my shoulder and stalk toward the still-open door. People are no longer walking by; they’re standing in the doorway, blocking my escape. I’m still receiving sympathetic stares, but I don’t want their sympathy; I just want to get the hell out before I break down. Though, if I’m being honest, I’m too angry to cry; I don’t even feel the sting of tears in my eyes.